


In a heartbeat...

by bioloyg



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And Sam loves him back, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friend Natasha, Bucky loves Sam SO MUCH, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sparring, Taking Care Of Sam, We Just Love Each Other, Winter Falcon, bucky thinks he can punch his way out of his feelings, fuck idk what to tag this guys, i'll tag this properly when it's not 2 in the morning, it's nat and bucky tho, it's so??? It ended up being softer than I initially sought out to make it and it almost made me SAD, sike bih you thought, taking care of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioloyg/pseuds/bioloyg
Summary: "With the increased proximity comes reality, and that reality is that Bucky is sickeningly in over his head. He’s crossed over into dangerous waters - like a riptide of emotions, and all of them are directed at Sam. Bucky could have passed it off as a physical thing at first, but not now. Not when he feels so centered whenever they fall asleep on the couch together. Not when something feels wrong when he sleeps alone at night."~Prompt fill for tumblr that follows an abridged version of Bucky falling for Sam.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus, I'm not to be left with a laptop anymore. _Yet again_ I have managed to take what was SUPPOSED to be 1k or less and made it 4.7k  
>  It's a curse.
> 
> Anyway this was a prompt from a mutual that basically boiled down to: one character confesses something to another. I hope you guys enjoy this little thing I drummed up. It's got very little plot other than Bucky bein' in his feelings.

Natasha breaks free of Bucky’s hold with an elbow to his ribs before flipping him over her body. It never fails to impress him how strong she is despite her somewhat diminutive size. She flips her hair out of her face and waves her hands in a  _come and get it_  motion.

“So,” she says with a heavy breath outward as she blocks one of Bucky’s hits. “You wanna tell me why you brought me down here to spar? Because I know it wasn’t because you need the practice."

Bucky sweeps her feet out from under her, but she rolls backwards and out of his reach before he can get to her. “Why does there have to be a reason?” He blocks two of her hits, side stepping the third, and then punches. She blocks that too.

“I know that look. It’s that look you get whenever something is confusing. Specifically, something that shouldn’t be confusing that you’re upset about.”

Bucky manages to get ahold of her again, somehow gets her into a headlock, and says, “Nothing is  _puzzling_.”

Nat hooks one of her legs behind his and knocks him to the ground. Unfortunately for her, she goes with him. She’s off and up in no time though. “Don’t lie to me, Barnes. If I’m helping you get whatever this is out of your system, the least you could do is tell me what  _it_  is.”

She comes at him fast and hard, hooking her legs around him and throwing him to the ground. “Besides, it’s starting to affect your technique. You’re not usually this sloppy.”

Bucky groans beneath her. He hates it when she gets like this. When she’s  _right_. “It’s about Sam.”

“What about him?” She asks as she pulls him up off the mat. The way she says it makes it seem like she already knows.

Shrugging off the minor ache in his muscles, Bucky says, “He’s confusing.”

“I got that much,” she says as she rests her hands on her hips. “What exactly is so confusing that it’s bothering you?”

“It’s not  _him_... It’s -”

“ _Yessss_?” she says, leading him.

“It’s how I feel about him.”

Nat snorts. “This is like pulling teeth. Can you just admit you have a crush on him so we can move on to the part where I help you fix your non-existent problem?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs one of the water bottles that’s beside the mat. He chugs half of it, and on an outward breath he says, “I don’t have a crush.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at him whenever he's around.”

He scowls. “The way I look at him?”

She makes a face, some sort of cross between smug and amused. Looking down at her feet she says, “Yeah - like you want to throw him off a helicarrier and into your bed.”

Bucky lets out an audible groan and turns around. “I’m going back downstairs.”

Nat says, “Am I wrong though?”

“ _Yes_.”

~

Bucky is a lot more conscious of how much he looks at Sam and  _how_  he looks at Sam. He wonders if touching his face whenever he looks at Sam would clue him into what it’s doing. It’s involuntary, he knows that much. Everything about Bucky’s - _interest_ in Sam is involuntary. It took him by surprise. Bucky just woke up one day and realized he leans into Sam whenever they’re touching, and that he cares about Sam’s opinion just a little bit more than everyone else’s. He  _favors_  Sam. He  _likes_  Sam.

A lot...

Bucky rolls his eyes and lets out an aggrieved sigh. It’s just - Sam is  _so_  - He’s like -  ** _!!!!!!_**

“ _Augh!”_ Bucky pulls his hair back into a bun aggressively and heads to his room for a change of clothes.

He needs to work this off. If he ignores it long enough it’ll go away, right? This - this... _whatever_ it is. He’s not attractedto Sam. Sam hates him... or he used to. And Bucky hates him back... or he used to.

Bucky takes a deep breath and swats away the intruding thoughts. There’s no room for him in Sam’s life. Sam is poised to be the new  _Captain America_. He’s kind, he’s  _funny_ , he’s incredibly smart in this weird way that makes Bucky pause and question everything he knows. Sam just has this way about him, and Bucky can never really pinpoint just what it is about Sam that’s so endearing. It’s like it’s everything and nothing. Sam can be infuriating, but he can also be such a comforting presence. He’s soft and he’s sharp all at once, and how you treat him decides which he is with you.

He’s a lot. That’s what it is. He’s just - a lot. Bucky hasn’t been so intrigued by someone in a while. He has no idea what drives Sam to do the things he does, some of them reckless, and some of them so selfless that it makes no sense.

Bucky throws his shirt to the side and grabs a tank top, angrily muttering to himself about how far out of his depth he is. He’s everything Sam isn’t. He’s broken, and scared, and... Sam deserves better. Bucky wants the best for him in such a frustrating way.

After Bucky’s gotten enough of  _that_  out of his system to get dressed, he drags himself up to the training room/gym upstairs on the compound. He needs to take a lap around the track. Or twelve. At top speed.

He’s got a lot to work out.

However, as soon as Bucky makes his way into the weight room he finds Sam doing pull-ups. While the way Sam's back muscles ripple is incredibly distracting (and distressing), Bucky is currently fixating on the scars running down his back. Two thick lines, like someone dragged two brands across the skin there. Perfectly parallel. They’re so vivid and present, but in a way that leads Bucky to believe this was some sort of injury that Sam endured multiple times. He doesn’t even realize how long he’s been staring until Sam drops down onto the floor and turns.

Sam jolts ever so slightly and says, in that aggravatingly smooth voice of his, “Shit. Sometimes I forget how quiet you are.”

Bucky snaps himself out it and shrugs, nonchalant.

Sam makes a face, exasperated but fond. “How long have you been there?”

_Lie. Do not say five minutes. **Lie.**_

Bucky narrows his eyes and then says, “I just got up here a few seconds ago.”

_Good job, Barnes._

Sam nods. “ _Alright_... Unless there’s something you need I’m gonna head over to the squat machine.”

Bucky groans internally. Sam’s ass is distracting enough as it is. Bucky does  _not_  need the thought of Sam’s thighs straining, or the way he grunts when he pushes himself to the edge swimming in his head right now. He came up here to get it  _out_.

Sam’s brow furrows and he says, “You alright? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

“I’m  _fine_ ,”Bucky grits out as he stalks into the hallway leading to the track.

“Sure,” Sam says, and he definitely doesn’t believe Bucky but he doesn’t push it either.

~

The thought of those scars hiding just beneath Sam’s shirt has been haunting Bucky. He wants to touch them. He wants to know what  _caused_  them, if Sam hurts, or if he could make it better. He’s seen Sam bruised and a little bloody, he’s even seen Sam knocked out, but more often than not Sam is untouchable. Above it all - literally. Something about the way Sam holds himself just doesn’t connect to that. It’s like they’re not even there.

Bucky wonders if Steve knows about them. He and Sam have been friends longer than Bucky has been friends with Sam. It doesn’t seem like he knows though. Steve would’ve given off some sort of sign, made some sort of face. He does it all the time whenever he catches a glimpse of Bucky’s left arm, even clothed. He’s never made that face when looking at Sam’s back.

_Someone_  has to know. Sam didn’t seem to care that Bucky saw, or it didn’t seem like it, so it’s not something he’s hiding. Or maybe it is and Sam just knows Bucky won’t say anything about it. Bucky knows better than to share something like that. Something like that being vocalized could turn Sam into a sideshow, could send Tony and Bruce into a frenzy trying to figure out how to repair the skin.

Bucky understands that some scars need to be kept. Reminders.

~

“Have you talked to him about it yet?” Nat’s voice seems to travel across the whole room in a way that makes her hard to pinpoint.

Bucky still knows where she is though. He turns to face her and says, “Talked to who?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Who says I’m playing.”

She rolls her eyes and throws herself onto the love seat adjacent to him dramatically, draping her arms across the back of it once she’s settled. “You’re right. Any smart person would address their problems instead of shoving them into a corner until they burst out like a jack-in-the-box later.”

“Why address something that’s already been decided?”

Natasha lifts a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Since when has anything been decided?”

“It’s been decided since I ripped the steering wheel out of his car. A car  _you_  were in. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten.” Bucky looks up, annoyed, and then to the side. Not quite an eye roll, but close.

He hears Nat lean forward to say, “Steve forgave you, didn’t he?”

“Steve is  _Steve_.”

“And Sam is  _Sam_. You would know if he hated you. He’s not exactly averse to letting people know exactly how he feels about them.” When he looks at her she shakes her head, like a put upon school teacher. “You’re reading too much into this.”

“That’s better than letting myself see something that isn’t there.”

Nat lets out a loud sigh and says, “Your so busy looking at individual trees that you’re missing the forest.” She stands and looks down at him. “Talk to Sam.  _Now_.”

Bucky is just about to tell her something when he hears, “Talk to Sam about what?” from none other than Sam himself.

Bucky shoots her a dirty look and mouths  _I’m going to kill you_.

She smiles, her grin catty and sharp. “You’ve tried before. I think I’ll be okay.” As she walks by she whispers, “Your aim sucks. Pull your head out of your ass so you can see.”

If Sam weren’t in the room looking at him, Bucky would’ve done something childish. Something like tripping Natasha or pulling her hair. Instead Bucky looks at Sam and says, “What?”

“You tell me,” Sam says as he sits down beside him on the couch. He’s not all that close, but Bucky feels his body heat like the sun on a hot summer day.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Bucky says, leaning away ever so slightly. If he moves slow enough he might be able to get off the couch entirely without being noticed.

Sam looks at him and lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t sound like nothin’.”

“Well it is.”

“If you say so.”

“I  _do_.”

“Okay,” Sam says, but he says it in such a way that Bucky knows the conversation isn’t over. “What’s got you so worked up about this nothing?”

“ _Nothing_.”

“You can keep lying to yourself and bottling it up....  ** _or_** you can say it out loud and get it off your chest.” He looks at Bucky, assessing, and then says, “I think this is something you need to get off your chest.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “How would you know?”

Sam laughs. “ _Really_?” He shakes his head and lets out an amused huff. “Aside from the fact that I used to work at the VA, I can tell when you’re tense.”

“I’m not tense,” Bucky mutters under his breath. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns on the TV to drown out Sam  _and_  his thoughts.

“I was trying to be nice, but if I have to say it I will. You look like shit.”

Bucky clenches his jaw and then says, “I haven’t been sleeping.”

“What’s keeping you up?”

Bucky lets out a long breath. “Why do  _you_  care?”

Sam kicks him in the leg, albeit lightly, and when Bucky looks at him he’s frowning. “Because you’re my  _friend_ , and you’d do the same for me.”

Bucky swats Sam’s leg away, ignoring the tingle from where Sam touched him. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Sam nods, agreeable. “And you don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Not particularly.”

Sam shrugs and then leans over to pluck the remote out of Bucky’s hand. “Well if you’re gonna brood, gimme that. I’ve got shows to catch up on.”

“Like  _what_?” Bucky says as he drags the remote further away.

Sam frowns and scoots closer to him. “ _Shows_.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Is it something embarrassing like _Say Yes to the Dress_ again?”

“No more embarrassing than you are,” Sam says as he lunges for the remote.

Bucky holds the remote out of reach and pushes Sam back. “I was here first. I get to pick.”

Sam bats his hand away and then drags him closer by the shirt collar to grab the remote. He gets so close to Sam he can smell his body wash, so close that his breath hitches and his mind skips a beat - one that’s just long enough for Sam to get the remote.

He smiles, victorious, and says, “Not today, Barnes.”

~

It keeps getting worse. Bucky thought Natasha pointing out his lingering gazes would make it easier to stop, instead Bucky is just hyper aware of every interaction he has with Sam. It makes him want to pull his hair out. He didn’t realize how often he and Sam are in a room together, how often they  _work_  together.

Bucky’s not even sure when he stopped going on solo missions, but part of him is glad he doesn’t anymore, especially not in situations like these.

He and Sam manage to make it to the rendezvous point, but just barely. Sam got shot at, and he dodged the bullets gracefully as always, but he couldn’t get past everything. Not even with his acrobatics and tempered wings. Bucky didn't even get past everything. There were  _far_  more men than either of them had expected, more than Bucky’s usual overestimation.

Sam looks reasonably tired and a little more bloody than Bucky cares for. Autopilot is good for something though, so Bucky puts it to use and helps Sam get patched up. He’s oddly stoic, more so than usual.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asks as he cleans the graze wounds on Sam’s arms.

Sam laughs, but it’s a hollow thing. “About as good as I could be after getting my ass handed to me.”

Bucky lets out a quiet sigh and winces when Sam flinches. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sam says. Once Bucky is finished wrapping up one particular gash Sam shoos him. “I can handle it from here.”

“You sure?” Bucky’s hands itch to help. He feels partially responsible.

Sam takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I’ve had worse, I’ll be fine.”

Bucky stares at him for a moment, thinking of something to say, but he finds he’s at a loss for words. Finally, he lets out a shallow breath and gets up. “If you need anything -”

“I’m fine, James. Promise.”

Bucky doesn’t push it, despite not believing a word Sam says. 

~

He finds Sam in the kitchen at three in the morning drinking something warm. The steam is still billowing out of the cup when Sam brings it to his face. Bucky can’t help but laugh. “Is this what fine looks like?”

Sam looks up from his cup and sighs. “This is what insomnia looks like.”

“I know a thing or two about that.”

A rueful smile plays at Sam’s lips. “I guess you would, huh?”

Bucky shrugs, non-committal. He makes his way to the island and rests his elbows on the countertop. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not much to talk about,” Sam says as he brings the mug to his mouth again.

“There’s plenty.”

Sam lifts his eyebrows. “Like?”

“How you’re feeling.”

“Like shit.”

Bucky grins. “I know a thing or two about that, too.”

Sam sets his cup down and leans in. “What makes you feel better?”

_You_ , his heart says. His mind agrees, but what comes out is something a little more vague. “Being around someone who cares. Even if we don’t talk about it.”

“Anyone?”

Bucky shakes his head ever so slightly. “No.”

Sam sits back up and grabs his mug again. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now,” He says as his eyes skip across Sam’s face.

Sam’s eyes soften and one side of his mouth twitches, like he’s fighting for and against the smile at the same time. “At least one of us is.”

“What makes  _you_  feel better?”

The question goes unanswered for quite a few seconds, and during that time Sam just kind of looks at him.  _Really_  looks at him. The kind of gaze you can feel on the back of your neck. After a while he says, “Warmth.”

Bucky sucks a breath in past his teeth, dragging it. “Well, I can’t help you there. I’m the  _winter_  soldier, not the summer soldier.”

Sam lets out an amused huff, beside himself, and says, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Got you to smile though.”

“That’s nothing special, Barnes. You always make me smile.”

Something in Bucky’s chest constricts, grabs a hold of those words and hoards them for later. Bucky’s smile softens and he says, “That’s not a bad thing.”

Sam looks at him over the rim of his mug. “Didn’t say it was.”

Bucky nods, conceding. He looks over his shoulder and then back at Sam. “You wanna watch a movie? I don’t think I’m gonna be getting back to sleep any time soon.”

With a deep sigh Sam says, “Are you gonna make me watch Jurassic Park with you for the five millionth time?”

“That’s a  _good_  movie.”

“Yeah the first three times, not after twenty-six.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and heads toward the media room. “You’re over exaggerating.”

When Sam comes into the room behind him he says, “I wish I was. I started keeping track.”

“No one was holding you hostage, so you obviously enjoyed something about it.”

Sam frowns, narrowing his eyes as he does so. He doesn’t say anything to that so Bucky counts it as a win.

They end up settling on  _Interstellar_. It’s slow and contemplative, but just gripping enough to pull them out of their heads. Bucky starts to feel drowsy half way through, he even considers excusing himself, but Sam falls asleep before he does. He falls asleep  _on_  Bucky.

A small little grin tugs at Bucky’s mouth. Sam looks so much younger like this, so relaxed. The way his face is pressed up against Bucky is making it sound like he snores, and Bucky has half the mind to record it and use as blackmail after the  _Banana Creme Pudding Incident of 2017_. He still hasn’t heard the end of that one.

But he doesn’t. He just admires the quiet of it all for a moment, and when he’s looked his fill he gently moves himself out from under Sam’s weight. Somehow he manages to scoop Sam into his arms without waking him, so Bucky takes him back up to his bed, and tucks him in. And when he goes to sleep in his own bed he tries not to dwell on how nice it was to be so close.

~

That becomes a ritual. They meet in the middle of the night. Sometimes by chance, sometimes on purpose when they both know that the other isn’t sleeping and they no longer want to be alone. It works, and it’s theirs, something that Bucky appreciates.

But with the increased proximity comes reality, and that reality is that Bucky is sickeningly in over his head. He’s crossed over into dangerous waters - like a riptide of emotions, and all of them are directed at Sam. Bucky could have passed it off as a physical thing at first, but not now. Not when he feels so centered whenever they fall asleep on the couch together. Not when something feels wrong when he sleeps alone at night.  _If_ he can.

Tonight is another one of those sleepless nights, but he's saved from his inner demons by a knock on the door. Bucky turns in his bed and pushes himself up when he sees Sam standing beneath the doorframe. “Code Yellow?”

Sam's mouth twitches, like he might smile. “Yeah.”

“What do you wanna watch this time? We got through both Star Wars trilogies already.”

Sam opens his mouth and then closes it. He scrunches his eyebrows, like he’s thinking hard about what he wants to say.  **Really**  hard. Eventually he says, “I don’t wanna watch a movie actually.”

Bucky sits up fully. “Something else?”

“I -” Sam laughs and shakes his head. “This is gonna sound really stupid.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” Bucky says with a smirk.

Sam flashes him a look and says, “I was  _going_  to ask if I could stay in here with you for a bit.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Oh.”

“See I told you -”

“No it’s fine. Do you want to sit or?” He flips the covers back and moves to the side.

Sam sighs, one part relief and two parts... something Bucky can’t read. He looks at Bucky and then twists his lips. “It’s easier for me to fall asleep near you.”

Bucky lets out an amused huff. “If you wanted to get in my bed all you had to do was ask.”

“On second thought, do you think if I chug a whole bottle of NyQuil -”

"Shut up and get in the bed, Wilson.”

“Not with that attitude,” Sam says as he puts a knee up onto the bed anyway. He gets himself situated on the side Bucky  _wasn’t_  sleeping on.

Bucky waits until he’s buried himself in covers to say, “You want me to read you a bedtime story?”

A prolonged groan grinds past Sam’s lips. “Why do I even talk to you?”

Bucky lays down beside him and pulls the covers over himself. “Apparently I help you fall asleep.”

“That’s only because I know you could kill literally anything that would try to kill me.”

Sam doesn’t know just how true that statement is. Bucky just stares up at the ceiling and says, “I could, and I would.”

The sigh he’s met with is sad and watery. He turns and sees the way Sam is curled in on himself, eyes held tight. He reaches out and gently places a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Hey, what’s  _really_  wrong?”

Sam’s lips thin. “It’s - something old.”

“Come here.”

Sam opens his eyes and looks up at Bucky. “Huh?”

“ _Come here_ ,” Bucky says again. “You said being next to me helps you fall asleep.”

“Yeah but I don’t need to be touching you.”

“You’ve drooled on me enough times for that not to be true anymore.”

Sam frowns. “Where exactly is ‘here?’”

Bucky lifts his arm and drags Sam until he’s fitted under it and against his whole right side. “Maybe if I keep talking I can bore you into falling asleep again.”

He can feel the way Sam yawns against him just before saying, “You don’t bore me.”

“You fall asleep in the middle of conversations.”

“In my defense, they’re conversations we have at four in the morning.”

“ _Uh huh_.”

“Plus your voice is... nice.”

Bucky looks down at Sam. “My voice is  _nice_?”

Sam sighs. “Yes, now will you stop talking so I can fall back asleep?”

“You don’t have any trouble falling asleep in the middle of our other conversations, you should be able to now.”

“Not when my head is wedged between your arm and chest. I can  _feel_  you talking.”

Bucky runs his hand up and down Sam’s arm. “Okay. I’ll stop.” He pats Sam’s arm, then says, “For  _now_.”

Despite all their bickering it doesn’t take Sam long to fall back asleep. Bucky’s not sure if he was supposed to bring Sam back to his room, or if Sam would bring himself there the next time he woke. He doesn’t bother trying to figure it out though. Having the weight of Sam on his chest detracts from some of the nastier thoughts running through his head. It’s grounding.

At one point in the night, while Bucky is still musing to himself about problems past, Sam tenses and then mumbles something that becomes more and more frantic. Nightmares. Bucky does his best to gently wake Sam, but he comes out of it with a gasp and wide eyes. After the veil rises he looks down at Bucky and then closes his eyes again with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“How long have I been laying here? You could’ve kicked me out. I just wanted to take a nap.”

Bucky chuckles. “A nap at 2 in the morning?”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

Bucky tugs him back down and tucks Sam into his arms. “If you want to, you can get a full night of sleep in here.”

Sam shivers and then slides his arms until he can circle them around Bucky. “Just for tonight.”

“Okay.”

But that’s not how it works. The cycle just repeats until it’s almost unbearable for Bucky, having Sam so close and yet so far. Which is why it comes as a surprise when Sam kisses him.

It’s such a quick, soft, little thing that Bucky barely notices that’s what it was at all. He had just woken Sam from another nightmare, and by the sound of it, the same one Sam has on a fairly regular basis. But then Sam looked up at him, and the relief on his face was so stark that Bucky felt like he was being punched. All he did was rub his hand down Sam’s arm to chase away the chills, and then said, “There. All better.”

Sam apologizes as soon as he does it too - or he tries at least. He doesn’t even have half the words out before Bucky kisses him back, and he doesn’t leave any room for doubt. As their lips drag against one another, slowly catching, Bucky wonders how they got here. As soon as Sam deepens their kiss the thought is chased from his mind though. It’s irrelevant how they got here, at this point. What really matters is the fact that they’re here at all. All Bucky cares about is how warm Sam’s skin feels against his hand when he slides it under Sam’s shirt. All he cares to feel is the soft sigh Sam lets out when Bucky kisses his neck, and all he wants to hear is the way Sam’s breath catches when they get just a little too close.

But is it really too close if neither of them wants to stop? Is it too close if Sam says, “ _Please_ ,” in that breathy deep voice of his? And is it too close if Sam tries to get  _even closer_ when he hooks his legs around Bucky and asks for more?

No.

God no, and it’ll never really be close enough, but it’s damn near it.

~

“It was the first pair of wings I’d been given,” Sam says one night as Bucky strokes his right hand up and down Sam’s back, over the scars. “What we were doing - it was too important for me to stop just because they hadn’t worked out the bugs. It would’ve been selfish.”

“So you let yourself be burned.”

Sam hums, a muted sound. “Sometimes you have to. Sometimes it’s the right thing.”

Bucky lays his palm flat against Sam’s back. “And what about you?”

“I’m fine. I’ve got you.”

Bucky holds Sam a little bit tighter and kisses the top of his head. “We’ve got each other.”

Sam lets out a contented sigh and swipes his thumb over Bucky’s shoulder lovingly. “Sap.”

“Love you, too.”

Sam kisses his chest, right over his heart. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> There were so many different times I imagined Bucky confessing his love, and every time I thought I could do it I kept going lmao. For example, Bucky was going to say something right around the time they fought for the remote.... but I'm bad at being concise so here we are.
> 
> Follow me for more shit [@zamnwilson](http://zamnwilson.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Also feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed or if you feel so inclined. I love hearing from you guys :)


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